


so flawed and free

by Anonymous



Series: les mis porns (´ ∀ ` *) [2]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Bruises, Bukkake, Café Musain, Choking, Cock Warming, Come Eating, Creampie, Crying, Dirty Talk, Facials, Feminization, Finger Sucking, Gangbang, Hand & Finger Kink, Humiliation, Large Cock, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Sex, Size Kink, Skirts, Unsafe Sex, all the amis are there, basically enjolras getting it rough, kind of, this was fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-17 02:41:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28717449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Enjolras warms Feuilly’s cock during a meeting. Naturally, it escalates.
Relationships: Enjolras/Feuilly (Les Misérables)
Series: les mis porns (´ ∀ ` *) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2105967
Comments: 3
Kudos: 21
Collections: Anonymous





	so flawed and free

**Author's Note:**

> content warnings: public sex, enjolras' ass being called a pussy once, pretty heavy degradation, choking, and unprotected sex. steer away if you don't want to read any of that!!
> 
> like usual, not beta'd. again, do not perceive me if you find any mistakes
> 
> title from hozier's "movement" :) enjoy your reading!

Enjolras has memorized Feuilly to a science. His work schedule, the temperature he drinks his coffee (scalding), the position he sleeps most comfortably in, when he needs to take out his frustrations on Enjolras. It isn’t in a harmful way, no. It’s quite the opposite.

It’s hard to recall how exactly it happened, _it_ being fucked in front of the Amis, all of his friends bearing witness to his debauchery at the hands of Feuilly. It’s hard to make himself care as he clenches down on the older man’s hard cock. His own twitches beneath his mini skirt draped over his upper thighs, but he's unmoving. Feuilly's hands are settled on his waist, keeping him in the same position silently. 

He expects Enjolras to keep speaking to their friends as if everything is normal, as if his thick cock isn't shoved too hard into his prostate and making him want to squirm. Enjolras puts his hands on the table and digs his nails into the wood and Feuilly's calloused fingers press into his skin. "On Friday-" Enjolras begins, sweat beading on his forehead. 

His friends are listening tentatively, and if it weren't for the stubborn erections tenting their pants, Enjolras would actually think they weren't aware of what was going on. Feuilly leans and kisses the back of his neck with feather light lips, pulling an involuntary shiver from the younger man before he finishes his sentence. "Friday. The posters will arrive that day, right, Grantaire?" Enjolras asks, keeping the trembling in his voice almost steady as he asks him. 

"Sure thing, boss," Grantaire replies, smirking when Feuilly thrusts up enough to make Enjolras gasp minutely. He cranes his head towards his boyfriend, eyes wide and shimmering with desperation. 

_"Please, Feuilly,"_ the blond whispers, though it's loud enough for Courfeyrac to hear it and chuckle from across the room. 

Feuilly tightens his arms around his waist and pulls him back, directly back to chest. Enjolras whines something small at the change of angles, but still, Feuilly refuses to move. Enjolras throws his head back and pants, covering the other's hands with his own. _God,_ his hands are so gorgeous, something to behold. They're scratched up from years of different work, rough from his escapades on the guitar and his paintbrushes. Enjolras revels in the manner in which the hardened pads drag across his skin that is comparably soft beside Feuilly's.

"Get back to it. Are you going to thank Grantaire?" 

With a spank to Enjolras' thigh, Feuilly then runs his index finger up his stomach to his chest, going back and forth in his motions. "Yes, sir. Thank you, Grantaire. I-I appreciate it."

"I'm sure you do," Bahorel pipes in, smiling at Enjolras from his seat.

"Shut your mou-" Enjolras' snark is beaten out of him with an furious slap to his ass, one he just _knows_ will leave an angry pink mark in the shape of Feuilly's palm. Said hands wrap around his throat from behind, not pressing, just keeping him hanging between the precipice of instinct and obedience. He wants to keep fighting back as futile as it is. The more dominant side wants to be good for Feuilly, make the man see everything he's capable of doing for him. 

His pupils dilate while he looks to the side and meets Feuilly's eyes, hand still locked around his neck. "Sir, please."

The fingers that were closed around his neck move to tug at his soft rose petal lips. Enjolras wraps them around the fingers slowly, laving his tongue over the digits, wetting them with his own spit as his friends all watch on. Feuilly beams, self-satisfied, and allows his fingers further entrance inside of Enjolras' mouth, pressing his loving tongue to the back of his teeth. 

Enjolras tightens his lips around on bobs his head like he's sucking a cock, tongue dipping in between each digit playfully.

He knows the effect he has on not only Feuilly, but the entire group. There's the distant wet noise of someone getting sucked off; judging by the groans in the room, Enjolras believes it's Jehan though he can't see them. His view is obstructed by his boyfriend, whose hair is in his eyes and whose lips are playing down his neck. "Can I take my fingers out without you throwing a fit?"

The blonde nods.

Feuilly's fingers are gone, and he's commanding Enjolras to continue addressing the room but his dick is far too deep inside of him to focus on anything else but the warm sensation overtaking him. He's sure if he put his hand over his stomach, he'd be able to feel it through. The thought makes him moan lightly and undulate his hips for a second. "Feuilly. I can't-"

"Can't even speak for a few minutes? Is taking dick all you can do right?"

"Mmh - no!" Enjolras shakes his head and grabs behind Feuilly's chair to gain a bit of leverage and shove back onto his dick, to attempt to make it reach further inside of him than it already is. It constantly grinds against his prostate and his jaw drops. He lets out little staccato whines, uncaring of anyone who may hear him. Let them hear. Let them know that he's the only one who gets Feuilly in this state. Everyone else can only watch.

It goes on for a minute or two. Enjolras bounces on his lap, twisting to grab his boyfriend's chair as well as pull him into a messy kiss. Feuilly tugs at Enjolras' pretty blond curls and leads the kiss, tongue dipping inside of his mouth, until he moves his arm from the wood of the chair and turns him to face their friends. 

"If it isn't all you're capable of, why can't you talk to your friends? What's stopping you?" Feuilly asks, thrusting up into and pulling a gasp from the younger man. 

He clenches down on Feuilly's cock, meeting eyes with Joly across the room, who's getting his neck sucked on by Bossuet and smiling down, shrouded in obvious bliss. It must be nice, having your boyfriend satisfy you when you ask. Of course, Feuilly is _wonderful._ He can't stop thinking that as he fucks back onto that annoyingly large cock, but _damn_ it would be wonderful if there wasn't constant torment any time he wanted a good fuck. 

The ginger stops him by the hips, fingernails digging in and leaving a trail over the pale flesh. He releases a cry when his movement is halted, and tries to bounce on his dick but to no avail. _"Sir!"_

"Shut your mouth, Enjolras."

Enjolras shakes his head and throws his head back, drops his hands to the table. Oh, how desperately he wishes to touch his cock. It's leaking profusely onto his little red skirt, staining the fabric a deep maroon. He takes a desperate breath of air. "Feuilly - _please!"_

The room remains silent. 

Feuilly's possessive streak has not decreased over the time of their relationship. In fact, it's more the opposite. Since the first time the two rutted against each other until they came in the cramped up living room of Feuilly's old apartment two years ago, he's continued to place his mark on Enjolras, always willing to take him in front of who he wishes to show who he truly belongs to. And sometimes, Enjolras likes to take advantage of this. 

"You know, sir," Enjolras whispers, kissing Feuilly's temple. "If _you_ won't fuck me the way I need, I have seven men in this room who - _hah!"_

Feuilly moves him off and throws him over the polished, wooden table and shoves his cock back inside, jackhammering into the younger at a breakneck pace. His legs twitch as he cries out in sheer ecstacy, eyes rolling to the back of his head with each thrust of his hips. His hair is tugged back once again, tears pooling with the sting of his force, both behind every jab at his prostate and the fist in his curls. _"_ Mm - _sir!"_ he shouts, mouth agape for all of his friends to witness.

"Is this what you need, you greedy bitch? You can't even host your own meetings without begging for someone to fill your pussy. Focus - look at all our friends. Look at them. Would you be able to take yourself seriously if you saw yourself in this state?"

Enjolras scrabbles at the table, no doubt digging marks into the surface. The tears finally fall, and through the cloud of it he sees heaven and hell in the blurred faces of the ones surrounding. His mouth never shut, and the constant snap of hips makes him convulse aggressively against the hands holding him bent over the table. 

Feuilly's cock is unrelenting. Enjolras buries his face into his arms trying to muffle his moans, though it isn't effective. It's after hours at the Musain and realistically nobody will hear him, but it's still _so embarrassing_ being so exposed to the rest of the Amis. "Head up," Feuilly commands, shoving against his prostate again.

The rapidity sends Enjolras spiralling, and he tunes out the words that they all add. He picks out the words _desperate_ and _slutty_ among others and can't prevent the cry that tears from his throat. Feuilly spreads his cheeks and fondles the flesh, groaning appreciatively when the blonde clenches around his cock that still slams into him. 

"Feuilly! _Fuck,_ sir, don't - don't stop!" Feuilly hoists his leg atop the table, spreading Enjolras so far that his muscles ache something blazing. He howls at the change of angle and the constant stimulation of his prostate, and a strong arm pulls his chest off the table so that his back is against the bigger man again. That arm squeezes against his throat, Feuilly taking him in a cautious chokehold that leaves only just enough room for the blonde to breath. 

He gasps with the strain of breathing, grinning despite the spots he sees dotting his vision. The sudden warmth he feels in the lowest pit of his belly reaches his fingertips, sending his toes curling, body straining in preparation to cum for Feuilly and their friends to witness. His back arches into Feuilly, whose arm loosens slightly, and cries into the room, throwing his head back to his shoulder and uncalculatedly clamping his walls around the ginger's dick.

Feuilly moans and moves his free hand to clutch at Enjolras' stomach, and laughs in his ear. "It's a wonder how tight you are when you fall into the lap of anyone who you think can please you. _God,_ you're just a slut, right? You're seriously going to cum just from being in a chokehold with a cock in your needy little ass."

The world goes still in Enjolras' head. He shudders with his entire body, arching his back further into the curve of Feuilly's chest and desperately reaching for his thighs, scratching as he cums. It spills across the table, staining the deep brown with his own cloudy, translucent white. His heart beats from his chest in his attempt to come down from the high of it. 

When Feuilly cums inside of Enjolras, it isn't without a shout into his neck that has since been freed from his arm, which takes place around the loving softness of the younger man's waist once more. _"Fuck!"_ he exclaims and bites a bruise into that long neck of his.

Feuilly's seed is hot inside of him, a feeling Enjolras has never been able to describe why it feels so remarkable to the other man. It's a fair trade. Enjolras gets to feel like he's being claimed, Feuilly is the only one who can mark him in the most intimate places. He trembles with the aftershocks and releases a sigh when Feuilly pulls out, hushing him while he flips the skirt back down. 

He flinches at the contact of the fabric with his stinging butt, which Feuilly playfully slaps at like a switch has been flipped. "You know what to do. Now, go please our friends. It's the least they deserve, right?"

Enjolras complies, and with the assistance of his boyfriend, sits on his knees in the middle of the room. Still fuzzy from the energy his orgasm stole from him, it all passes in a blur. Courfeyrac, Bahorel, and Bossuet all elect to finish down his throat, but Joly (reluctantly), Combeferre, Jehan, and Grantaire spill themselves onto his face, each a slightly different consistency but no less pleasing. 

Grantaire, freshly spent, peers down on Enjolras with a soft smile and a grip on his chin. His thumb traces the seam of his lips, specked with white, and feeds the drops to Enjolras. It sweeps across his cheek and nose, and the one on his knees loosens his mouth and sheathes it inside, over his tongue. This repeats a few times until his face is completely clear of anything but a smile. "Beautiful."

"Thank you, Grantaire," Enjolras sighs with a dreamy tone to his voice.

"Such a good boy," Feuilly says from behind, and lifts him from the ground and into his arms. He curls into the embrace and doesn't complain when he's settled onto a table again and told to step into his tights and underwear. He fondly banishes everybody else from the second floor of the empty cafe, and doesn't fail to notice the concerned, enamored eyes Grantaire gives the weakened Enjolras as he heads out. He saves that for a later conversation.

"You did wonderful tonight, honey," Feuilly says. He tucks a ringlet of blonde hair behind his ear and strokes his fingers down his cheek.

"Thank you, sir."

Enjolras, though he knows the scene has been over, refers to Feuilly by his title while he settles himself from the events of the evening. He places a chaste kiss to his pink lips, not caring to slip his tongue. "Are you ready to get home?"

They bump noses with another kiss. "Will you carry me to the car?" Enjolras asks with a benevolent, tired smile.

"Like I'd say no to you. Let's get you home, then I'll take good care of you," he whispers, fingers making a path down Enjolras' bruised up arms, pressing into the sparse freckles and purple marks. "Give you a bath, put you in some new clothes. You know, as much as I like this skirt, I doubt it's comfortable. Are you hungry?"

Enjolras nods. 

Feuilly kisses his forehead, finding it impossible to keep a smile hidden while he runs his hands through the soft curls that trail from the top of Enjolras' head and down his back. "We'll pick something up. Come here, you sweet thing. Let's go home."

Enjolras lets himself be taken into Feuilly's snug arms again and wraps his legs around him with no intention other than finally heading home. As fun as nights like tonight are, it can be exhausting. He's happy he has Feuilly with him to do such things with him, though. "Let's go home."

**Author's Note:**

> can u tell the ending was kind of rushed? lol i wanted this finished but i also had the last few episodes of versailles calling for me!!
> 
> hope you enjoyed <3


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